


I don't need me

by earlgreyson



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: All the cuddles, Comfort No Hurt, Established Relationship, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Touch-Starved, ok a lil heart hurt as a treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22683514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgreyson/pseuds/earlgreyson
Summary: There’s more that he wants than a soft blanket and a warm drink, but there’s not much Eggsy can do to meet those needs so he shoves them down. Hopes he can go see Mum and Daisy in the next few days and get some cuddles in with his favourite girl. There is an itch that has been hovering beneath his skin for as long as he can recall, and he knows that a quick snuggle with a struggling child is not going to relieve it. But there’s not much else in terms of an option, so Eggsy will take what he can get and be thankful for it.Eggsy returns from a mission to find himself confronted by Merlin and Harry. Now if he can only ask for what he needs.
Relationships: Harry Hart | Galahad/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin, Harry Hart | Galahad/Merlin, Harry Hart | Galahad/Merlin/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin, Merlin/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin
Comments: 19
Kudos: 429





	I don't need me

**Author's Note:**

> Recently rewatched the first movie and as a touch-starved bitch I needed someone to get what I want so here ya go, Eggsy. Get some for me, lad.
> 
> Listened to a ton of Frightened Rabbit while writing this, specifically _Still Want To Be Here_ and _Yes, I Would_. Neither really match in terms of content to this story, but the sound definitely was an inspiration.

When observed, the general consensus that most people come to about Eggsy Unwin is that he is an unrepentant flirt, charisma oozes from every pore, and he’s got a genuine instinct for people. While this observation is not necessarily incorrect, it is certainly not a complete analysis of his character. At the tender age of twenty-six the man has a firm grasp on his own moral compass, a quick-thinker who can adjust on the fly as the situation dictates, quicker tongue combined with a perceptiveness that can cut to the core.

Eggsy Unwin is also scary good at hiding his true thoughts. His outer persona of a loud-mouthed chav is carefully curated. Like all the best lies, it is based in truth: Eggsy loves people and seriously enjoys being around them, engaging them with an easy smile and casual posture. While the instinctual awareness of the emotional currents around him is something he was born with, the degree to which it develops is entirely related to his upbringing. When someone like Dean blows into your life, you batten down the hatches and you watch the skies. This is something that is learned quickly and painfully.

If life had gone according to how he had always thought it would, Eggsy wouldn’t be currently lying in a snowbank in the dark, cold numbing his limbs almost as much as the boredom numbs his mind. No, he’d be in the pub getting a pint with the lads or getting his arse absolutely wrecked getting between Dean and his Mum. Despite the chill that’s long since seeped into his skin, Eggsy wouldn’t give up this new path for anything.

As much as he’d _hated_ his fellow applicants during the competition for Lancelot—not Roxy, never Roxy. The woman’s amazing and Eggsy is more than half-gone with love for her, though had joined her in wild laughter the one time someone suggested something more than friendship between them. Yeah, Rox is fit as _hell_ and the fact that she can kill a man in less than a breath should be intimidating but is instead just hot as fuck, but when he looks at her the last thing he wants is to shove his tongue down her throat. One drunken evening when they’d been in the pits of their feelings she’d referred to them as _platonic soulmates._ Eggsy had to blink back tears at how touched he was, but he couldn’t agree more.

Life has improved in most ways since he took down Valentine and settled into his role as the newest Kingsman agent. The areas it hasn’t improved in...well, he tends to avoid reflecting on them. He’s got so much to be glad for. Being drawn into the Kingsman fold is single-handedly the best damn thing that’s happened to him.

He tries to hold onto that thought as a snowflake hits his raw nose and melts.

 _“Status update if you please, Ector."_ The crackle of Merlin’s voice in his earpiece almost startles Eggsy out of his skin—the falling snow muffles any sound and it’s been some time since the man was able to last check in. The problem with being as indispensable as Merlin is, it means that everyone needs your attention and there’s not a lot of room for downtime. Currently the man is splitting his attention between Eggsy nestled in his makeshift igloo in Iceland and Lancelot.

“Nothin’ guv, though the snow ain’t helpin’ visibility much so best guess, they’re just late. Fuckin’ rude of them, me here freezing my boll—”

 _“Aye, Ector, I know,”_ Merlin interrupts with a tired chuckle. _“You’ll be getting your chance to warm up soon, the plane took off from Reykjavik less than twenty minutes ago. I’d expect with the weather they’ll be there within the next ten.”_

Eggsy nods wearily, murmurs a quiet _ta_ as he brings his scope to his eye. There hasn’t been anything to break the bleak whiteness of landscape beyond the gray stripe of the airfield below him for hours. Not since a family of arctic foxes had crossed the hill before him around dinner time. It’s well past midnight now.

It’s not even like he has the difficult job on this mission, that’s all Rox. He’s doing his best performance of an icicle; monitoring for the plane heading from the south loaded down with weapons and the car coming to meet them from the north. All he has to do is confirm the twats who collect it are who they believe they should be and see if he can get eyes on anything specific. Unless spotted, he’s just scouting. Lancelot is currently winding her way through their base in a dilapidated warehouse back in the city, planting bugs and getting Merlin into the system.

He hasn’t been given a direct connection beyond Merlin—and occasionally Harry when Merlin is focused on Roxy—so he only knows she’s successfully entered the warehouse. Once she’s out and he’s got the all clear to pull back, they’re heading home. Eggsy is counting the seconds until he can get wrapped up in one of the ridiculously plush blankets they’ve got on the plane, hot tea in hand.

There’s more that he wants than a soft blanket and a warm drink, but there’s not much Eggsy can do to meet those needs so he shoves them down. Hopes he can go see Mum and Daisy in the next few days and get some cuddles in with his favourite girl. There is an itch that has been hovering beneath his skin for as long as he can recall, and he knows that a quick snuggle with a struggling child is not going to relieve it. But there’s not much else in terms of an option, so Eggsy will take what he can get and be thankful for it.

The thought is quickly allowed to slide away as lights begin to blink at him through the distant clouds. What could be mistaken as a satellite initially clarifies into the flashing lights of landing gear. Alert and silent, Eggsy tracks the plane’s approach through his gun and taps the earpiece to signal headquarters.

_“Good lad, should be Henriksson comin’ out to make the exchange. Any sign of Beecher and Veroslava yet?”_

A slight head shake as Eggsy watches the plane land and slide to a stop. The engines roar, but under the continuing snowfall there’s an odd flatness to the sound. The scope picks up the rear ramp descending from the plane and a large form stroll down it. It takes a glance to confirm the large man is Einar Henriksson: rising star in futurist architecture, avid philanthropist, and secret leader of a radical anarchist movement dedicated to the annihilation of capitalism by any means necessary.

Eggsy doesn’t disagree entirely with the desire, only the man’s methods. Any means necessary rarely indicates anything then total mutual destruction and too much in the way of innocents lost.

 _“Picking up a heat signature from the north,”_ Merlin hums in his ear. It’s not the first time Eggsy has wanted to close his eyes and let himself drown in that voice, but he’s kind of in the middle of something and can’t take his eyes from the target. He files away the rich brogue for a better time. _“Definitely a vehicle. Careful eyes, Ector.”_

Another short nod as headlights prick against the dark night. It takes a few more minutes for the SUV to stop a short distance from the plane and every nerve ending in Eggsy is awake. This is what he was trained for. He keeps carefully focused on the people exiting the car and approaching Henriksson.

He wishes he could say it’s an exciting mission. It's not. Everything goes off without a hitch and Eggsy watches the meeting go down peacefully, the transfer of bugged cargo, then plane and car depart into the snowy night. When he's been alone for a long moment and there's no signs of life below, he sits up with a groan.

"Aight, guv, I'm turnin' back." He murmurs and begins to pack his gear at the affirmative sound he receives. "Crate's on its way ta wherever that troll is lairing up. Did ya see how tall the wanker is?"

Eggsy rambles a little as he gets everything together and clambers down the hill behind him, not excited for the near kilometre walk back to the truck waiting for him. Merlin doesn’t respond beyond the odd sound here and there but Eggsy doesn’t mind. The man’s busy, and it’s enough to know he has at least part of his attention. He’s almost back to the truck when he gets the all clear for Roxy.

“Brill, let’s get ta _fuck_ outta Iceland. First one ta the plane makes drinks!” He exclaims as he slips into the warm truck, smiling at his man in the driver’s seat.

 _“Lancelot says it’s your turn and you cannae be weaselin' out of it because she’s closer, Ector,”_ Merlin cracks wryly in his ear. Eggsy ignores him as he settles into the plush seat.

“Onward, George! Twenty quid if ya can beat Lance.”

The bulky man rolls his eyes but throws the car into gear and tears into the dark. As the head of Eggsy’s support team, he’s well used to the younger man’s energy and takes it all in stride. Once Eggsy’s seat-belt clicks into place, George hands him a thermos that he accepts gratefully.

“Mate, marry me. Swear down, I’ll treat ya right,” Eggsy groans as the hot coffee hits his frozen oesophagus, burns a warming trail down into his stomach. George chuckles lightly at the proposal.

“Not enough money in the world, sir, I’ve seen you in a strop.”

Eggsy sticks out his tongue at the man. “I’m a fucking _delight,_ bruv.”

“When you get your way, yeah.”

The rest of the short drive was spent in relative quiet and they made it back to the plane in short order. Of course, Roxy was already on board—suit jacket thrown over the back of a chair as she sprawls face down on the floor, sleeves lazily shoved up around her elbows. A laugh escapes Eggsy at the sight, another when she flicks her fingers at him without looking up. He doesn’t respond, but goes over to the small bar to pour them each a drink. A moment of inspiration sets him to heating up the electric kettle and mixing whisky into the milky tea he makes from it.

One mug is deposited in George’s hands as he slips into the cockpit with an inaudible thanks, Eggsy takes the other two towards Roxy and sits down in a seat near her head.

“Come on love, up ya get,” he murmurs, waving the steaming mug next to her face. She turns to look at him and shoots him a pleased smile.

“I knew you’d make the drinks if I looked pathetic enough.” Her smile is fond as she sits up and accepts the mug, letting her long fingers wrap around the warm ceramic. Groaning with the effort on her tired body, Roxy shifts so that she’s leaned up against the seat between Eggsy’s legs, letting her head rest against his thigh. Absently his fingers stroke through her hair as the plane gains speed and takes off.

It’s not enough, not quite what he wants, but Eggsy will take what he can get and be grateful for it. Because what Eggsy wants—what burns in the pit of his stomach—cannot be provided to him. So he keeps a tight lid on the desire to cling and confines his touches to what is safe.

He tries his best to avoid thinking of soft sweaters and burnished hair. He tries his best to brush away dreams of firm grasps and proud embraces. It’s not enough, but it’ll have to do.

Roxy nods off over the Atlantic, one arm wrapped around his leg and the other loosely grasping the empty mug. Eggsy plucks it from the lax grip and sets it on the table, small smile on his lips. The plane hitting the tarmac as they arrive back at headquarters rouses her enough to blink blearily up at him.

“Wanna lift, Rox?” He slides from the chair and crouches in front of her with his back to her. As tired as he is—it’s been a long day and the cold has worn him down more than he expected—he knows she’s worse off. A smile rises on her lips and she flops without grace onto his back. By the time he’s got her off the plane she’s dead asleep again, nestled against his shoulder blades. If the heated weight on his back makes Eggsy feel more grounded than he has in days, he doesn’t say. He still doesn’t feel entirely present, but Roxy stretched over his shoulders makes the minutes slow.

It’s close to dawn now and Eggsy is only mildly surprised to find that Harry and Merlin are waiting for them when he carries his sleeping friend off the plane. They look as tired as he feels but they greet him with matching smiles.

“Good work, Eggsy,” Harry croons as they come close, stepping in close to rest a hand briefly on Eggsy’s arm. He’s so tired it takes a moment for him to remember he shouldn’t lean into the touch. “I’d congratulate Ms. Morton, but it seems she is in need of some rest.”

Eggsy chuckles and nods. “Yeah, gonna just drop her in her room. Fuck if I’m gonna make it much further than that.”

The four of them begin the walk inside, Harry and Merlin flanking Eggsy closely as they make their way through the winding halls. He wasn’t lying, Eggsy’s plan is to get Roxy into bed and then take the few steps from her quarters to his own. No way is he trying to get back to the flat tonight, he’d more than likely end up in a ditch in his current state. Above his head, the other men discuss the mission, occasionally brushing up against Eggsy. He tries not to think about the warmth that lingers in his skin with each casual contact. His fingers clutch tightly at Roxy’s legs with the effort of not reaching out.

It’s not enough, but it’ll have to do.

It seems between one moment and the next he finds himself in front of Roxy’s door. Eggsy blinks at it in confusion before shaking his head and shooting a smile at Merlin and Harry.

“Can we save the debrief for later, yeah? It’s way past my bedtime,” he jokes as he struggles to open Roxy’s door. Harry reaches around him to click the handle open and he gives a weary _ta_ as he slips in. Roxy grumbles in her sleep as he lies her down, tugs off her shoes, and tucks her into bed. She wakes briefly and her cracked gaze turns towards him.

“Thanks Eggsy, love you,” she mutters as she falls back asleep. Eggsy smiles, affection warming him as he leans down to press a kiss into her hair.

“Night Rox, love ya too.”

Taking a moment to just breathe, Eggsy lets his eyes slip closed as he exhales. _Fuck,_ he’s so tired. He’s looking forward to pulling his own rumpled suit off, less thrilled about the cool, empty sheets that await him. But it won’t matter once he’s asleep and the siren song of unconsciousness calls sweetly to him. Another exhale as he opens his eyes, and then silently he leaves Roxy to her dreams.

To his surprise, Harry and Merlin are waiting in the hall for him as he slowly closes the door behind him. They’re leaning on the door opposite him—his door—mirroring each other in their lax posture and crossed arms. While he was tucking Roxy in they continued their low conversation, as Eggsy turns to them now they fall silent.

“Did I forget somethin' I was s’pposed ta do?” A yawn cracks his face halfway through the question and he grimaces, wiping a hand over his eyes. Harry shakes his head and steps away from the door into Eggsy’s space.

“Not at all, dear boy. But there is something we’d like to discuss with you, if we can keep you from your rest just a little longer.” Voice warm and smooth as honey, Eggsy is nodding before he can process what Harry is saying. He’s so ready to drop, but between Harry letting a hand come up to rest heavily on his shoulder and Merlin tucking into his other side, there is no resistance in him. Not that there generally is when it comes to the two of them, but he has to at least pretend he isn't arse over tits for them.

He is, he absolutely is, but he’s been planning on taking that secret to his grave. What other option is there? _“Oh yeah, I just want ta be the stuffin’ in a Merlin and Harry sandwich.”_

That’d go over like a sinking ship. No, he’ll keep his mouth shut, thanks. But with the men pressing into his sides, it’s hard to hold to the promise. Eggsy isn’t above begging, in the right circumstances. This is absolutely not something he can ask for though and he bites his tongue to keep from opening his mouth. Just a few more minutes hopefully, and he could make his retreat.

Merlin takes the lead while sticking close, uses a gentle hand on Eggsy’s elbow to turn him through the corridors. They stop in front of an unmarked door and it takes him a moment to realise it’s _their_ quarters.

While it had been a bit of a shock at first when Eggsy had come to understand the bond between the two men was more than just good friends, it hadn’t taken more than a moment to shake the feeling and taste the drip of jealousy trickle down his throat. Once he’d known what to look for, it was impossible not to see the care in Merlin’s rolling eyes, the delight in Harry’s smile when he managed to surprise the watchful man.

It's beautiful to watch—honestly—and it's like getting stabbed in the fucking ribs every time Eggsy sees it. Since his elevation to the Table they've grown close, he frequently brings Merlin back the silliest souvenirs he can find and he's always going around Harry's office with food and tea. Sometimes after a long day they'll invite Eggsy to have a drink with them. The stories alone are worth the way his breath catches when they look fondly at each other.

He doesn't reflect on the way they look at each other when they think he isn't looking, the shifting glance from him back towards the other man. He doesn't try to puzzle out what they're trying to communicate. It's better for everyone if he doesn't. They have an amazing life together and Eggsy isn't going to be the man that ruins it.

So he doesn't think about the look Harry and Merlin share when he hesitates in the door to their rooms. With gentle hands they guide him over the threshold, sit him between them on the sofa. It's a tight fit and their knees brush his and Eggsy very pointedly doesn't think about it. He's exhausted and feeling oddly sensitive, there's no way he can keep himself in check if he lets himself think.

"Eggsy," Merlin starts, voice low and it feels like it rumbles right up his spine. Eggsy glances up at him, means to look back down at his twisted fingers but finds he can't. Merlin's looking at him with pride, a little hesitance of his own, and something he can't quite read with tired eyes. "Your work since joining Kingsman has been impeccable, lad. We've nae been as impressed with an agent, and I know we don't say it enough. We're very proud of what you've accomplished."

Harry nods along in Eggsy's peripheral but he can't look away from Merlin. Because there's something else there, behind the praise that's raising a flush in his cheeks. Eggsy can _hear_ it, a shadow lurking behind the glow.

"But," he manages to choke out, and by Merlin's frown he can tell the man sees him breaking up inside. He can't _hide_ and he feels so exposed between the two. A hand covers his twitching fingers, thumb running soothingly over the back. He doesn't look to see whose.

"Oh my lad," and _God,_ how sad Merlin sounds when he speaks again. "When are you goin’ to ask for what you need?"

Eggsy gapes at him. His brain screeches to a halt and there's no way to process what he's heard.

"What I—"

"When was the last time someone held you for more than a brief hug, Eggsy?" Harry chimes in softly and his head whips towards the man. The same sadness in Merlin's voice lingers in the edges of Harry's good eye. He reaches up and cups both hands around Eggsy's face. Everywhere their skin meets feels like a miniature static shock and his already fragile walls begin to crumble.

He tries to pull away, tries to back away long enough to find some air, get a grasp on the situation. But Harry's hands on his face and Merlin's on his own keep him pinned. The panic must begin to show because Harry shifts from holding his face to wrapping his arms around Eggsy's shoulders, pulling him into the soft cotton of his shirt.

"It's alright, lad. We want to help." Merlin's hands drift over his back in slow motions and between that and Harry's embrace, it's _too much._ Eggsy can't remember the last time someone held him because he needed it, the last time someone touched him for his sake and not their own.

Eggsy gasps for breath, fingers fisted in Harry's shirt in a desperate attempt to gain some kind of control. They're saying words of comfort but he can't hear them over his heart pounding in his ears. The arms don't slacken and the hands move without stopping and it feels like _heaven._

It takes some time for the panic to recede and Eggsy is left wrecked in its wake. _"Please, let us take care of you,"_ one of the men whispers. _"We love you, it's alright, Eggsy."_

The hands shift from his back to his waist, carefully tugging backwards until Eggsy shifted from Harry to Merlin, strong arms coming up to hold him firmly against a broad chest. Harry peers into his red face and wipes away tears he isn't aware he'd shed.

"You've had to be the strongest for too long, but you don't have to anymore." The way he speaks, like Eggsy is the most precious thing in the world, almost has him sobbing. "If you'll allow us the privilege, we want you."

"Why would ya ever want my mess?" he chokes out from between grit teeth. "I _can't—_ "

Merlin hushes him with a hum. "You can, if you want. You nae have to do anything you dinnae want, lad, but it hurts to see you aching when we're here and want to help. Let us. _Please._ "

Eggsy searches for the lie in Merlin's words because they're too good to be true. There has been nothing in Eggsy's life to ever indicate he can have what he wants. He's pined and lusted and dreamt of so many things over the years he's never achieved and to suddenly have the biggest, the best of them, be simply handed to him? Like it's the easiest thing in the world, like it costs nothing more than the breath it takes to speak?

That's never been Eggsy's life, but as he stares Harry in the face and feels the rhythmic beat of Merlin's heart against his spine, he can find no lies. The early morning sun begins to rise and the hue of the room shifts to blue.

The affirmation, when it comes, is a mute but firm nod. Harry and Merlin exchange a charged look above Eggsy’s head as one of his hands comes to rest on top of Merlin’s arms, the other tangles in Harry’s.

“I’d be right fucking mental if I said I hadn’t thought about you both,” he admits with a flush. “I just—”

Harry cuts him off with a gentle squeeze to Eggsy’s fingers. “We’re well aware, my dear boy, that you have been concerned with not intruding. You’ve acted with the utmost respect and chivalry—”

“But we’ve also noticed _you,_ ” Merlin interrupts. “You take care of everyone, always so attentive to our needs. You _never_ ask for what you really want. Ask us, tell us what you need, Eggsy.”

It takes a few moments of him opening and closing his mouth to reconnect his brain with his voice, gaze flickering wildly between Harry’s open expression and Merlin’s tight grasp around his chest.

“I—I want—”

Why is it so _hard_ to say? Eggsy is the first to admit that sometimes he talks too much. But now, when it comes down to saying what he needs, it’s like he’s forgotten every language he’s ever learned. There’s a rush of emotions and rapid-fire imagery across his heart as the men wait patiently for him.

“I want ya, both of ya. Whatever I can have. I won’t ask for more.” It’s a barely-there whisper, a small movement of air. But in the silence of the room, it’s enough. The arms around Eggsy’s middle contract and Harry smiles with such joy it’s like he’s won a war.

“Lad,” Merlin rumbles in his ear and Eggsy can’t fight the shiver it raises. “We _want_ you to ask. Anythin’, everythin’, it’s all yours.”

“Why don’t we start with what you want right now?” Harry suggests when it’s clear from the way Eggsy’s eyes widen that _anything_ and _everything_ are far too big to comprehend in his exhausted state.

“Just....Can we go to bed, for now? I’m too knackered for more tonight.”

“Of course.”

It’s Harry who answers, but it’s Merlin who gets them moving. He drags Eggsy up from the sofa but doesn’t remove his arms as he walks them towards a door to the back of the room. Inside, a large bed dominates the floor. A few photos line the wall and the evidence of the men’s lives spilling over scattered papers, pieces of tech in various states of repair, a deep blue sweater thrown over the back of a chair.

Merlin manoeuvres it so that Eggsy’s turning in his arms and his knees hit the mattress, falling slightly until he’s seated on the edge. The broad hands never leave him though as Merlin slides to his knees—and _damn_ isn’t that a sight Eggsy thought he would never know—and delicately pulls off his shoes. Harry climbs on the bed behind him and runs his hands over Eggsy’s shoulders before tugging the wrinkled suit jacket free, tosses it to the side without looking, never stops touching Eggsy.

He feels a little like he’s gone into shock, to be honest. This is the longest anyone has touched him for any reason in too long and it’s throwing his system into chaos. Everywhere Harry’s fingers brush against a fire follows, where Merlin has a hand wrapped around his ankle raises electricity underneath his skin. It’s too much and Eggsy never wants it to stop.

Between the two men, he’s reduced to his pants in short order. Harry draws him back with tender touches until Eggsy is laying down, curled into his side. Merlin drops lightly behind him and stretches along the length of his back. There’s no room to move and it surprises him that the confinement drains whatever tension remains in his frame until he is lax and his eyes drift closed.

“He’s so much more responsive than you thought, Merlin,” Harry chuckles as Eggsy rubs his face against the man’s chest. An answering flick of Eggsy’s fingers sends the other two into quiet laughter.

“Aye, cannae wait to see what he’s like when he’s not burning the midnight oil.”

“Later,” Eggsy grumbles, patting around until he finds Merlin’s hand on his chest and clutches at it, other hand in Harry’s undershirt to keep him close. Now that he’s been given permission to touch, it seems his body has gotten with the program a lot quicker than his mind has and is acting of its own accord. “Sleep now, sex later.”

There’s more laughter and lips press against his head from the front and back.

“Of course, Eggsy. Whatever you want.”

“Gonna wreck ya both,” he mumbles as sleep races for him. “Just wait.”

He’s unconscious in a matter of seconds, but as he slips away he hears them say, “Goodnight, love you,” and revels in the feel of their arms around him. 


End file.
